


No Home

by larrystylinsobbing



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Homeless, Artist Harry, Fluff, Homeless Louis, Homelessness, Loneliness, M/M, One Shot, Poetry, Writer Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-01
Updated: 2013-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-16 18:19:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/865124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larrystylinsobbing/pseuds/larrystylinsobbing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>harry is alone and louis is alone and somehow they are alone together</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Home

there are many types of people

there are small people

and big people

sad people

and happy people

and sad people pretending to be happy.

there are beautiful people

and hateful people

and people who have watched their dreams be slaughtered before their very eyes.

there are so many different types of people

but i guess you could day i’m not really a people person.

i enjoy the company of silence

over the idle sound of small talk

and my mother is worried that i’m always so alone

but it’s okay really because

i like it better that way

but no one really understands.

harry sighs into musty air

letting his pencil drop to the floor.

harry writes poetry

and he thinks he sucks at writing poetry

but he never stops because

there is nothing more satisfying

than putting his thoughts down on paper for the world to see.

and harry truly is alone

more alone than he’d like to admit

and his mother really does worry

and it kills him inside

but solitude is just so inviting.

sometimes he stays up

until the sun is just a distant memory

and he thinks.

he thinks of what life would be like

if he wasn’t such an introvert

or if he hadn’t moved to a flat

six hours away from the comfort of home and maybe

if his old friends hadn’t stopped calling

he could be a little less alone

but everyone disappoints you in the end

so harry is a loner.

harry has this thing.

everyday

at exactly ten p.m.

he goes to the closest mcdonalds to get coffee

because starbucks is stupidly expensive

and he doesn’t fancy being in the back ground of an instagram picture

besides he thinks the coffee at mcdonalds tastes better

and not like posh

over-priced

hipster water.

anyways he walks to mcdonalds because

he doesn’t have a car

but that’s normal in the big city that harry

both loves and loathes

and he orders a coffee and manages to drink it for two hours

then goes home

and hopes he doesn’t get stabbed on the walk back.

the cashier recognizes him

he can see it when her eyes light up with familiarity

but not with any sort of affection

because as much as he loves the coffee

he hates the employees

hates the way he can feel them judging him

and asking questions internally

because they’re afraid to speak

why are you always alone?

don’t you have anything better to do?

don’t you have a family that misses you when you’re gone?

why the hell don’t you just go to starbucks?

sometimes he’s tempted to tell them to silence their internal monologue.

harry gets his coffee

and doesn’t thank the employee

because he’s fucking rebellious

but only when he wants to be.

tonight there is something different

or rather someone different

and he is sitting in harry’s seat.

normally this would throw harry off

because he has a case of self-diagnosed OCD

but tonight he allows it

because this stranger gives him a chance to study him

and so harry sits in the booth in front of the boy

and faces him

and scans his body carefully with his sad eyes.

the stranger reads the sports section of a newspaper

from two weeks ago

and he has no food or drink

and he looks very dirty

and he has a ratty backpack at his side

but harry’s attention is caught at his eyes.

they are blue

sky blue

ocean blue

baby blue

and a bit green

grass green

lime green

sea foam green

and as pretty as these marble eyes are

they are dead

like the eyes of a tired zombie

and this startles harry because

the boy is close

but also a little far

so harry shouldn’t be able to see the depressing details of his irises

and his face looks so young

but his eyes look so old.

and after the two hours are up and it’s time for the walk home

harry leaves like nothing has happened

but his mind is screaming

and he wants to know more

needs to know more

of this lifeless stranger

who has given him a headache.

the next day is so much worse

because harry can’t get his mind to stop

stop questioning

because this boy should be nothing

should mean nothing

but oh how he can’t stop

what is his name?

that is all he needs to know

he tosses a few names around and see how they taste on his tongue

walter

tyler

matthew

john

but they’re all wrong

just like everything else in harry’s life

so he settles on

stranger

because it seems the most fitting.

at ten p.m. that night

harry walks with a bit of urgency

even though stranger probably won’t be there

but harry falls in love with

mystery

anonymousity

and hope

so he’ll be thrilled to see stranger again

at least once

or twice

or everyday.

harry opens the door and his heart is pounding

and his mother always told him he was melodramatic

maybe she was right

but it seems as if the world is a bit more beautiful

because there stranger is

in the same spot

with the same dead eyes

and a different newspaper.

harry’s coffee can’t come fast enough

and when he finally gets it

he’s so eager to sit in his booth from yesterday

that he spills a bit on his shirt

but stranger doesn’t seem to notice

so harry doesn’t mind

even though the boiling liquid is searing his skin through the fabric.

as harry watches his feet begin to twitch

as if they want to move

even closer to stranger

and maybe stranger will be scared off

or maybe stranger might hit him

or shoot him

or spit on his face

because all people react differently to gangly boys with stained shirts sitting beside them

but his feet won’t stop moving and before he knows it

he is sitting in the boy’s booth across from stranger

and stranger looks up briefly

and harry catches a closer look at his eyes

oh how many tears those eyes must have shed

and they’re even more colorful up close

so tragically beautiful

but then stranger is looking down

at his paper

as if nothing happened

so harry studies his further

and notices the facial hair

that borders around his lips

as if framing a piece of art

and harry never really cared for art besides poetry

but suddenly he really does

because this boy’s lips are lovely

and this boy is letting harry stare at him

and harry smiles into his to go cup.

it becomes a routine

a wordless companionship

every day stranger is there

and harry sits across from him

and stranger looks at the newspaper

and harry looks at stranger

and lets the questions settle on the tip of his tongue

he wants to ask so bad

but he doesn’t

because he hates when people ask him questions

and he assumes stranger feels the same.

one day stranger finally speaks

he keeps his eyes on the printed words

and says so quietly

“louis.”

and his voice is raspy

and soft

and sweet

and now stranger has a name.

this little arrangement is working wonderfully

and harry is sure his mother would be proud because

mummy i made a friend!

but louis is not a friend

or an acquaintance

or any other formal type of relationship

he is merely alone

and harry is alone

and they are alone together

and it’s great and all

but harry wants more.

he knows he is selfish

harry had been called selfish his whole life

because he doesn’t want to come out and see the family

or go to gemma’s flute recital

because he is afraid of judgment

and ridicule

and harsh eyes

and that makes him a bad person

according to mother.

but mother isn’t here

so he’ll be selfish

just to spite her

even though he knows she has no way of knowing

so one day he looks into louis’ eyes and says

“harry”

and louis nods

without looking up

and their routine changed.

they began to talk in short facts

and neither would ask for clarification on what the other meant

because lonely people understand each other

or something like that

so when louis says

“doncaster”

harry says

“holmes chapel”

and when harry says

“one sister”

louis says

“four”

and they’re still neither friends

nor acquaintances

but they are

a little less alone

together.

but everything changes

or maybe harry’s being dramatic again

when harry says

“a one bedroom flat with no air conditioning”

and louis says

“homeless”

and all the little pieces come together

in a puzzle that forms

dead dead eyes

and maybe it’s a huge declaration

or a shameful secret that he is finally sharing

but louis doesn’t look up from the paper

he never does

and so he doesn’t see harry’s heart shatter

into shards of crystallized pain

and spill out of his eyes in the form of

a water droplet out of his eye and down his cheek

or maybe he does notice

and doesn’t say anything

because he has cried too many tears for one lifetime.

the next night they sit across from each other

and harry thinks of ways to ask

without scaring louis away

so he thinks

and thinks

and thinks he should probably take classes on how to better your socialization skills

or something equally pathetic

because talking has always been so damn hard for him

but by the time the two hours are up

harry still hasn’t asked

and so he closes his eyes

and blurts out

“come home with me”

and louis looks up at him

for the second time since they met

and his dead aqua eyes look straight at harry’s green ones

and it’s uncomfortable

to look into the eyes of a man who has seen so much pain

and try and beg him with your own eyes

that have not seen much at all

to maybe spend some time with you

because you have always been alone

but never really lonely

until this moment

but harry tries his best

and louis narrows his eyes to tiny slits

before standing up wordlessly

and looking at harry expectantly

and harry tries not to do a victory dance in the middle of mcdonalds at midnight.

the flat feels a little bit different

and a lot a bit better

with louis to fill the voids

that harry didn’t even notice where there

until suddenly they weren’t

and harry wants to tell louis how grateful he is to have him there

but he doesn’t want to scare him away

always afraid to scare him away

so he writes a poem

that goes a little bit

like this

lifeless eyes

and sensual thighs

no truths or lies

a smile that dies

don’t ask me why

he’s on my mind

so happy to find

him in my kitchen in the morning

with an unsure smile on his face

and a fresh plate of breakfast

that he made just for me

and we eat together

in silence

always in silence

i wish he would just fucking talk to me more

because i’m so wound up

on a fucking homeless man

but i don’t even care

because he breathes life into the empty heart in my chest

and i want to touch

and feel

and commit sin

with this

beautiful

homeless

man

and i’m pretty sure this was supposed to rhyme

but fuck louis drives me mad

and madness has no rules.

harry knows he’s crazy

he’s been crazy his whole life

but now this is different crazy

is different good?

is different bad?

he doesn’t know

cares even less

as long as he wakes up every morning

and knows louis will be there

with minimal smiles

and even less words

then maybe he wants to be crazy forever.

but it’s so damn terrifying

when louis could leave any day now

could escape his confines

because he is not a caged bird

maybe just has a broken wing

but even a bird with a broken wing can fly away if you don’t promise you’ll love it

and care for it

and make it better

so that one day it may fly again

with the wind in it’s feathers

free and light

and maybe he’ll let harry soar along with him

but louis isn’t a bird

and harry isn’t a bird

although he resembles an ostrich

and maybe life would be a whole lot easier if he stopped thinking like a poet

and started thinking of ways to get louis to share eternity with him

so he does.

there are so many ways he could do this

and some are illegal

like tying him up

and keeping him drugged up to his eyeballs so that he’s unable to leave

but that’s not okay

not even to harry and his weird ways

and he’d prefer to keep this consensual anyways

so he stops thinking like a serial killer

or a poet

or a fool in love

and starts being rational.

harry chooses a quick route

simple but effective

and one day harry has coffee

and louis has a newspaper

and it’s all like the day they met

except they’re not at mcdonalds because harry has stopped going there

because everything he needs is here

and so they’re at the table and harry says

in a voice so small

and fragile

and delicate

“stay with me”

and louis looks up and his eyes are still dead

but maybe a little less than before

and he nods

and this time harry does indulge himself in a victory dance

and louis laughs so lovely

that harry’s world stops momentarily

so he can have time to memorize the melodic sound

and if harry could have his way

he would trap the sound in a locket

that he would wear everyday

and he would keep the key

and whenever he felt sad he would unlock it

and let a little bit of the sound free

so that he can smile again.

louis moves that night

but in a very good way

because he used to sleep on the couch

because he was smelly and self-conscious

because homeless people don’t smell good

but harry convinced him to use his shower

said he wouldn’t mind

and louis thanked him with his dead eyes

instead of useless words

so he moves to harry’s bed instead

because he’s not smelly anymore

and maybe his heart is a bit bigger.

so they sleep in the same bed

and it’s awkward

because louis doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch

and harry doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch

and louis wakes up in the middle of the night to find himself surrounded by harry

so he breathes in deeply through his nose

and snuggles as close as he can get

while harry feigns sleep

and when he finally does doze off

he dreams of victory dances.

they both know it’s happening

they both know there is something there

they both know the smiles mean more

and their words mean nothing

but they also know how odd they are

and louis doesn’t talk except when necessary

and so harry doesn’t attempt conversation

and louis wonders why harry is alone

and harry wonders why louis won’t speak

but neither wonders why they are in love

but they do wonder why they’re afraid to say it.

until one day they do.

louis made bacon

and harry loves bacon

and bacon

and gorgeous homeless boys

and sleepy affectionate thoughts

are a lethal combination really

so harry kisses him slowly

on the cheek

because he’s a gentlemen

and says

“i love you”

and now louis finally has words to say but

his tongue is too heavy in his mouth

so he uses it for kisses instead of forming sentences

and they kiss all day

and all night

and all the next day

and all the nest night

until they’re breathless

but need more

so much more.

so they do more

so much more

and so harry is surrounded by louis

and louis is full of harry

and they become connected

in the most intimate way

and louis squeezes his eyes shut

as harry fills him even fuller

and they’re panting and sweaty and

when they’re done

and the familiar silence has returned

harry presses his sticky forehead to louis’

and watches his eyelids slowly lift

and holds back a gasp

because they are sparkling with life

and love

and harry lets himself think like a poet again

because his broken bird

is soaring

higher

higher

higher

but he’s taking harry with him.

louis may not have a house

but now

he has

a

home.


End file.
